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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969617">Under the Heart of Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatternsInTheIvy/pseuds/PatternsInTheIvy'>PatternsInTheIvy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment Issues, And Jack comes back, Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, But pre-S4, CONTENT WARNING:, Comfort that also hurts, Depression, Emotional Whump, Gen, Hurt, References to Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, post-S3, suicide ideation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:29:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatternsInTheIvy/pseuds/PatternsInTheIvy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Mac is someone who wants to see reality as it could be, and not just as it is, he realizes that the recurrent pattern in his life is too obvious to ignore. One way or another, people leave. He's tired of pretending to believe otherwise. And then one thing leads to another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Dalton &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under the Heart of Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Read the tags. </p><p>There is some detailed (although not graphic) suicide ideation in this, the suicide attempt itself is offscreen. There are references to a child having distressing thoughts of a similar (but not quite) nature as well.</p><p>Title and citation come from the song "Death, Come Near Me", which, as the title suggests, deals with a similar theme to that of the fic (in case anyone feels curious about the song, just be aware of that).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> be the one for me, be the one who stays </em>
</p><p>
  <em> … </em>
</p><p>
  <em> give us love and unity, under the heart of night </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Now</b>
</p><p>It feels like the envelope is much heavier than it should be. The weight anchors him to this moment, to what is in front of him right now, keeps him focused on what he is doing, and not anything else.</p><p>Or, he wishes it were like that.</p><p>The weight also pulls him down, like he's chained to a block of lead, being dragged to the bottom of the sea, cold and dark. Alone.</p><p>He enters Jack's apartment, pretends for a few seconds that he is doing anything else other than what he came here to do. Closes his eyes, imagines that the apartment isn't empty except for him.</p><p>Imagines that he isn't alone.</p><p>Jack said so many times that he wouldn't leave, repeated that enough that even Mac started to believe.</p><p>He should have known better.</p><p>It makes him a bit angry, even if Mac knows that he doesn't have the right to feel like that. Jack has his own life, he isn't tethered to Mac or obligated to him in any way.</p><p>But why, God, did Jack have to lie?</p><p>Mac had spent years learning that everyone eventually leaves, he had accepted that.</p><p>Then Jack came in, re-upped after those sixty four days, and stayed even after they came back from Afghanistan.</p><p>(Well, for a while…)</p><p>Maybe back then Jack really planned to stay, but as the time passed he noticed that Mac was just… too dependent, too weird.</p><p>Too much.</p><p>Well, his own father realized that early on and acted accordingly, so it's not like Mac can exactly fault Jack for doing the same.</p><p>It's just.</p><p>Just that he would rather never have believed the lie, no matter how sweet it was, because the bitter taste now is just… it makes him almost feel sick, makes him gag on his own loneliness.</p><p>His fingers press against the envelope. It is an improvised thing, made of a sheet of paper that he had lying around, folded and sealed with duct tape. Mac can see the contour of what's inside. The plates, the chain. For a minute he wonders if he's being a bit pathetic with this. What's to say that Jack will even want his dog tags? That he will keep them?</p><p>Ok, Mac knows that he is being too dramatic now. Jack will keep them, maybe not with the same care that Mac would have liked him to, but…</p><p>It's not like Mac will be around to see it. It doesn't matter.</p><p>And it's not like Mac could leave the dog tags to anyone else. They represent what Jack and Mac went through together, they are like a solid, concrete memory…</p><p>They are the false, illusionary proof, made of smoke and mirrors, of something that isn't there anymore. Of something that never existed, maybe.</p><p>Or, just metal shaped into some random form. It doesn't matter what they are. He doesn't need to make them into something they are not.</p><p>Mac leaves the envelope near the cigar box where Jack keeps his father's dog tags. He is not assuming anything, like his own dog tags will be kept there too, it's just that he doesn't want them to get accidentally lost.</p><p>He calls Jack, then, says what he needs to say.</p><p>After spending some time just walking around in Jack's apartment, Mac leaves. He locks the door behind him with a sense of finality. This was the last thing he had to do.</p><p>Mac already planned everything else.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>
  <b>Then </b>
</p><p>Mac watches Charlie falling down over and over and over again.</p><p>He hears Mason telling him <em> why </em> he did what he did. He hears his father confessing who he had been protecting when he decided to kill Mason's son.</p><p>It's all a repetition of sounds and images that close around his throat like a claw, squeezing. It hurts, hurts too much and not enough.</p><p><em> Mac killed Charlie </em> . Either because Mason got Charlie involved in this <em> because of Mac </em> or because Mac himself wasn't capable of thinking of something else and saving him.</p><p>The weight of that knowledge is like heavy feet pressing against his chest, stopping the breaths he tries to draw in…</p><p>(He pretends he is fine.)</p><p>Matty spares him from an immediate debrief, and Mac goes home. That night he just goes through the motions when the whole team comes for their post-mission gathering. He tries to keep himself grounded in the moment, in what he is doing, in all the people that are there...</p><p>He wishes Jack was here.</p><p>Mac shouldn't wish things like that, he knows. He just can't help it. Maybe if Jack were here to keep Mac from getting lost inside his own head, then he would have been able to think of something and save Charlie…</p><p>Or, maybe, if Jack hadn't left, Mason would have taken him instead of Charlie.</p><p>Mac is not safe to be around.</p><p>And it's not like he's saying that Charlie's life was worth less than Jack's… but.</p><p>But if it were Jack, Mac wouldn't know what to do with himself. It hurts enough that Jack left — broke his promise, did what everyone else did — but if Mac were to be responsible for his death…</p><p>Well, maybe it's for the best that things happened the way they did. It might not be how he wanted things to go, but that is of secondary importance at best.</p><p>Although Mac knows that Jack is better being away, he can’t help but, well, wish that <em> Jack </em> hadn’t realized that.</p><p>He wishes many things, actually.</p><p>He wishes he hadn't caused so much death and destruction. Peña, Zoe, Charlie, the list just grows as the time passes… and those are just the names he knows.</p><p>If Mac wasn't around, then maybe all of them would still be alive. Charlie certainly would.</p><p>And that's it. That's the thought that gets him back in a place where he's been before. Many times. But he pushes himself out of that place — or tries to, as best as he can, because he knows where they are going, and… he can't go there. Not now. Not when he doesn’t know if he will be able to get out.</p><p>He doesn't let anyone see how badly he is doing… he almost even flirts with Desi, because at least that's something to get his mind out of what is happening. Mac stops himself before he can do that, though. <em> What the hell </em> was he thinking five seconds ago?</p><p>The last thing he should do now is form any sort of attachment. To anyone. <em> Can’t he learn? </em></p><p>(There is a plan forming in his head already.)</p><p>He doesn't want to see anyone leave again, he'd like to think that he would be strong enough to go through that again, but the truth is that he isn't sure if he is. And, (much) more important than that, he won't get anyone else killed.</p><p>The hardest part is already done, at least. Against his wishes, but done.</p><p>He can do this. Distance himself from everyone, keep things professional, stop breaching boundaries that he has no business intruding on.</p><p>…</p><p>In the end, it is easier than he thought it would be. The Phoenix Foundation is shut down by the government, Mason's last infiltration, compromising the agency, is the last straw for them to cut funding. As much as Matty tries to reason with Washington, it doesn't work.</p><p>Just one more thing that Mac's presence destroyed.</p><p>…</p><p>On the other side, it is also harder than he thought it would be.</p><p>He has no excuses to see them, now, and while the team tries to keep their bond going on, stopping by his house, bringing pizza and beer, calling him, and just… being there, Mac does his best to push them away, <em> keeps himself away </em> even when his body is present, makes up excuses to not see them, doesn’t return their calls…</p><p>When all of those things don’t have the desired results, he says things that he knows will guarantee that Riley and Bozer — the two who won’t give up on him — will keep their distance. When they won't budge, he says terrible things that make Mac hate himself a little more… but it is for the best. Everyone involved will be happier in the long term.</p><p>He won't be exactly happy, but, well, not killing people is close to that, but at least Riley and Bozer will. So will Matty. So will Desi — free of her debt to Jack.</p><p>So will Jack, if — <em> when </em> — he comes back.</p><p>And so, almost two months after Phoenix is disbanded, Mac finds himself with a lot of time to spend on nothing,</p><p>Except thinking.</p><p>He is alone with all his thoughts, and then, <em> then </em> he allows himself to indulge in them.</p><p>(He wishes he wasn't born.)</p><p>His first memory of having thoughts like that are from when he was a child.</p><p>...From when Dad wouldn't pay attention to him, even when Mac was trying so hard to do things right, to be the best he could… he remembers thinking like that when he wished Mom was still alive. Or when Dad was short with him — <em> She's dead, Angus. It means that she won't come back. How many times do I have to explain that to you? </em></p><p>Nothing he did was enough, and sometimes he just thought it would be nice to not… be. At all. Well, he was a child back then, so his thoughts weren't as elaborate, but he remembers feeling like maybe it would be better if he wasn't there, had never been.</p><p>As the years passed, that line of thinking didn't leave his mind. It sometimes makes him… think.</p><p>Think that nothing would hurt.</p><p>That he wouldn't yearn for the things that he can't have. And really, he should have learned that lesson by now. Actually, he has. <em> Now he has </em>.</p><p>Finally.</p><p>
  <em> See, Dad, I can learn after all — not that you were the one to teach me this successfully, but thanks anyway. </em>
</p><p>But that line of thinking has… morphed. Throughout the years, it went to the obvious destination.</p><p>Not being born was not something he could change. But being alive… well.</p><p>That was something he could change.</p><p>And because that is something that he has control over, Mac decides to not indulge in that sort of idea. It's been three months now, but maybe he still has things to do, messes to clean up.</p><p>Besides, one doesn’t need to be happy to keep living. Happiness is not something he can demand of life.</p><p>It's not easy, though. It's not easy because it is not the first time this is happening.</p><p>For all that Jack is (was?) always saying that Mac gets lost in his own head, he doesn’t think that Jack ever knew the full extent of what kinds of thoughts sometimes keep him a — many times willing — hostage. Or maybe Jack did know and never said anything. What that would mean, Mac prefers not to dwell on.</p><p>Many times Jack has pulled him out of those places, perhaps without even knowing. But now he isn't around.</p><p>When a year passes and there doesn't seem to be anything else that he left behind, no loose strands to tie, <em> then </em> he starts to contemplate what he… might decide to do. He will wait a bit more, just to be sure.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Mac knows how he wouldn’t do it.</p><p>The first and obvious one is jumping from a height.</p><p>Maybe it is strange and contradictory, given that fear is a reaction that happens to promote survival. Of course, phobias are different from any rational and useful fear. It doesn’t matter. The fact is that even if he were to go ahead and take his life, heights would not be involved.</p><p>(Even if he would <em> deserve </em> that, since that's how Charlie died, <em> because </em> of Mac.)</p><p>In the beginning, when Mac first started considering this sort of thing, before he even went to Afghanistan, he’d thought that it would be a nice touch, jumping off a bridge, or a building. The last rebel act against an old enemy, the irony would be fitting. But along the years, the more he thought about it — and he thought about it a lot — led him to the conclusion that he wouldn’t choose that way.</p><p>Even if jumping off a very high place was a very reliable method, he wouldn't do it.</p><p>He also wouldn't throw himself in front of a car/bus/train. Unreliable, and too messy, too traumatizing for whoever would be forced to watch the act.</p><p>Drowning was also unreliable.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Mac finds a job, becomes a teacher. The idea is a sudden thing. In one of his better days, he thinks that maybe he still could keep helping people, doing something for the better.</p><p>Teaching people doesn’t look exactly like saving the world, but it won’t hurt anyone, right?</p><p>It’s not like finding a new purpose, but at least is a distraction.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Sometimes he considers calling Bozer and Riley. On the bad days, he isn't sure if it would be to apologize or to say goodbye. Maybe both.</p><p>Yeah, he should apologize, depending on what he decides to do.</p><p>If his presence will stop being a danger, he can let them know that he doesn't think those things about them, <em> at all </em>. He isn't sure why anyone would care about what he thinks, but in the case that they do… he shouldn't simply… well, die without making sure that they know they are wonderful people of whom he only has good memories of.</p><p>He makes a point to himself to remember to call both of them if he ever comes to decide on the particulars such as date, place and method.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Teaching… helps.</p><p>The students are not always paying attention, sometimes they are frustrating to deal with, but generally, it is… nice. Planning the lectures, going to the university, all of that takes some of his time, and occupies his mind. It generally doesn’t make him think about before…</p><p>Except when he is talking, engrossed in a line of thought, and there is no one there looking at him weirdly because he’s talking about some random fact. Sometimes he doesn’t look too much at the students, afraid that his brain will play tricks with him and make him see people who aren’t there.</p><p>Once, there’s a guy looking at his phone during his lecture. Usually, Mac ignores that sort of thing, but on that particular day, he doesn’t. Instead, he tells the student to give him his phone.</p><p>Mac freezes when the words leave his mouth before he can even add the “this is not the time to scroll through your social media.”</p><p>The rest of that day passes in a blur, and he wouldn’t even know what happens after that.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Benzodiazepines were one of the ways that he contemplated. They were a peaceful, even relatively comfortable way to go.</p><p>Unreliable, though. If Mac was ever going to go through with this, it would have to be in a way that guaranteed the desired result. He wouldn't be able to bear the shame of trying and failing, the pity, the accusations.</p><p><em> Although... </em> that was a method less likely to succeed if there was anyone around to check on him and get him to a hospital before it was too late. So maybe he wouldn't need to eliminate that option just yet.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>On the worst days, on the days when Mac almost gives up on waiting and does something on an impulse, he calls Jack.</p><p>He calls Jack because he knows that the call will go unanswered.</p><p>Sometimes he calls the number that Matty gave him — <em> I can't guarantee that Jack will be able to answer, Mac </em>.</p><p>And the other times he calls Jack's old number. Just to hear his voice after the call goes to the message box. Mac isn’t sure whether Jack left that phone behind, or if he carried it with him to wherever he is now.</p><p>Calling makes him feel better. It makes him feel worse.</p><p>He can't stop wishing things were different, and that's pathetic. It's ridiculous how he presses the phone against his ear so tightly when he hears Jack's voice. It's ridiculous how sometimes he can't breathe unless he hears that voice.</p><p>Christ, he really has a problem.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>And then there’s Cairo Day.</p><p>The memories hit him like a bludger.</p><p>He gives up on waiting, doesn’t even know <em> what </em> he is waiting for.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>He decides on a gun. Contrary to what people might believe, he does own one. It's not like he had the choice of not owning one, being an agent. He just had the choice of not carrying it around, not using it.</p><p>Although it is not like with heights, which he fears, there is still a nice irony in doing it that way.</p><p>Mac didn't like the unfair advantage a gun gave someone, but for this particular case, he is after the precision and lethality it gives.</p><p>A gun means that he only needs to be sure, to be brave enough, for the fraction of a second. And then nothing. No pain, no regret, no guilt, no loneliness.</p><p>On the day before, Mac calls Bozer and Riley. He apologizes, tells that he didn't mean what he said, never meant.</p><p>Understandably, neither Riley nor Bozer is very chatty with him, but they do accept his apology. Or they say they do.</p><p>Then he goes to Jack's apartment, leaves his dog tags there, and calls him. As usual, Jack doesn't answer, but this time Mac leaves a message.</p><p><em> I </em> — <em> hi, Jack. I just wanted to say g—to thank you for everything. </em></p><p>
  <em> ... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I left the dog tags for you. If you want them. I am sorry for everything, and... And I want to thank you for staying for some time, for trying. I understand, though. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> … </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Also, it’s not your fault, ok? Tell Boze and Riles that too. </em>
</p><p>He is proud that his voice almost doesn't crack, that he only really breaks down after ending the call.</p><p>Jack won't know that, won’t remember him that way.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>
  <b>Now</b>
</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>Jack doesn’t answer the calls from home, no matter who it is. Mac, Riley, Bozer, Matty, Desi. Whoever. He never listens to any message they leave either. It’s easier that way.</p><p>Until Cairo Day.</p><p>Mac calls on Cairo Day, and leaves the first message in all these months.</p><p>Nothing good happens on Cairo Day, and that’s what makes Jack listen to the message.</p><p>Listening to Mac’s voice after all these months makes him hurt, but Jack has no time to pay attention to that, to do anything other than call back. Because there’s no mistaking what Mac meant with that message.</p><p>Mac doesn’t answer. Jack doesn’t know what that means — and please, don’t you dare—</p><p>After his third call to Mac, when Jack realizes that his hands are shaking, and the guys around him are all weirded out by whatever his reaction to hearing that Mac is going to…</p><p>Maybe Mac isn’t answering because… because of anything other than…</p><p>Mac is going to kill himself and Jack is on the other side of the planet, he’s not there to stop him, to protect Mac from himself.</p><p>He calls Matty.</p><p>Matty doesn’t answer.</p><p>He calls Desi.</p><p>She tells him that she’s not with Mac, she’s on the other side of the country. That Phoenix disbanded. He barely registers what she’s saying, it’s all unimportant, useless.</p><p>He hangs up and calls Riley. Without any sort of greeting or pleasantries, he just asks where she is.</p><p>Still in LA, at least.</p><p>“You’ve got to get to Mac.”</p><p>“Mac and I aren’t exactly on the best terms right n—”</p><p>“He’s committing suicide, Riley,” if he didn’t already. “Just get to him, please. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”</p><p>“What?” she asks, shocked.</p><p>“Riley, just go! Find him. Stop him.”</p><p>It’s an order. Jack doesn’t care what the hell happened between Riley and Mac, they can sort it out later.</p><p>Next, he calls Bozer.</p><p>“I’m not sure seeing Mac is the best right now, Jack,” Bozer says, and <em> for the love of God, Mac, Bozer too? What the hell have you been doing to yourself? </em></p><p>“Are you in LA? I don’t care what happened. He is going to kill himself, Bozer. Just—”</p><p>“I’m on my way—” Bozer replies before Jack can finish.</p><p>He ends the call, waits less than a second before starting to get his things and packing. Leaving might get him into big problems, but nothing is worse than not being there if Mac is going to do shit like that.</p><p>On his way, he itches to call Bozer and Riley, but he doesn’t want to do anything that might get in the way of either of them getting to Mac.</p><p>Riley calls him when Jack is driving away from the compound where the task force was gathered.</p><p>“I’m scared Jack,” she says, voice trembling. “I don’t want to get there and be the one to find him.”</p><p>“You won’t be,” Jack says, praying that he isn’t lying. “You’ll do fine, Riley. Are you close now?”</p><p>“Yeah. Five minutes—<em> listen here, you have to drive this shit faster, got it? Because my friend is going to kill himself, do you understand that? I don’t care if you will be fined for this, </em>” Riley is practically shouting at the driver of — a taxi, an Uber? What she says works, and Jack can hear the sound of the car going faster.</p><p>Then Bozer calls. He puts Riley’s call on hold.</p><p>“It’s okay, Jack — I mean, it’s not, but I got to him. He’s with me. And I threw the gun away.”</p><p>Jack breathes. It seems ridiculous, and it is obviously inaccurate, but since he listened to Mac’s message, it feels like only now he finally breathed again.</p><p>“Gun?” <em> A gun, Mac? </em></p><p>“Yeah. I—I need to hang up, Jack. Mac is… he’s a bit out of it—”</p><p>“Let me talk to him.”</p><p>“Ok,” there is a pause before Bozer speaks again, “You can talk now, I put it on speakers. He’s listening.”</p><p>“Hey, Mac,” God, what should he say? Words come easy to him, but not right now. <em> What can he say in this situation? </em> “Everything will be fine, you hear me?” he decides on that, on trying to reassure Mac… and well, trying to reassure himself too. “Whatever is going on, we’ll sort it out.”</p><p>There is no reply.</p><p>“Bozer… how—what is happening?”</p><p>“He’s just… staring, Jack. Irresponsive.”</p><p>“Do you think he took something?” Jack asks, coldness spreading in his spine as he thinks that Mac might have done it, that he is still in imminent danger.</p><p>“I—I don’t know,” Bozer replies, his voice an octave higher than normal. “He wasn’t like this when I got here, I actually had to talk him down from doing it. So, I don’t think so?”</p><p>“Don’t let him sleep until you’re sure it’s not the effect of something.”</p><p>There is noise on the other side, and Jack hears Riley’s voice, calling Mac’s name. Christ, he forgot to call her to tell that Bozer got there in time.</p><p>“Bozer?” Riley says. “Mac!”</p><p>The next minutes consist of Riley and Bozer trying to coax a reply out of Mac, and Jack hates how far away he is, how powerless he feels at Mac’s silence.</p><p>“Mac,” Jack tries again. He will have a long trip to any place where he will be able to get on a plane, and he knows that the battery of both his phones won’t last the entire trip, so he has to save power, but he can really make himself hang up before Mac replies, before he gives a sign that he is really there, because right now all Jack has are the accounts of Bozer and Riley, and although they are enough, they <em> don’t feel </em> enough.</p><p>There is a rustling sound, and he hears Riley murmuring a “hey,” softly.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Of course that’s what Mac would say in a small, ashamed voice.</p><p>“Oh, Mac,” Bozer and Jack say at the same time.</p><p>God, he hates being here. Accepting this assignment was the worst idea Jack has ever had. This place is not where he should be, and look what it took for him to <em> get that </em>, it took Mac almost…</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Mac, I am going home, do you hear me?” Jack says, hoping that this time he will listen.</p><p>Mac does listen, even replies, but his answer breaks Jack’s heart.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p><em> Why? </em> Mac would ask that? Jack’s absence really would make him doubt things, doubt himself, doubt Jack that he would ask something like that? God. He knew that Mac had… trust and abandonment issues, but he’d thought he was doing better now.</p><p>Well, it wasn’t like Jack leaving would be helpful, right?</p><p>He liked to think that after everything he had Mac’s trust — always a fragile, tentative, hesitant thing.</p><p>“Because I shouldn’t have left, Mac.” There it was, the truth. Jack knew, when he made the decision of accepting this mission, when he said his goodbyes, when he got on the plane, and during all these months, <em> he fucking knew </em> it was the wrong thing. “I should <em> never </em> have left. But I am coming back now.”</p><p>Silence reigns for a few seconds, and Jack stills himself for Mac’s reply. And then there is sob, loud, visceral, pained. He hears Mac crying, not the discreet, quiet crying, but loud, gasping. He can almost see the kid’s shoulders shaking with the force of his cries. Then the sound is muffled, and Jack knows that either Bozer or Riley — or both — are there, with Mac in their arms. <em> And goddammit, Jack needed, should be there now </em>.</p><p>His vision blurs with tears.</p><p>He drives faster.</p><p>** ** ** **</p><p>It takes him forty-eight hours to get back, and when Jack finally — finally — finds himself in front of Mac’s house, it feels like years have passed. He’s sent a message to let them know he was close, and before he can even knock on the door Bozer opens it.</p><p>“Jack,” he says, and his voice sounds as exhausted as he looks. “Man, it’s… it’s good to see you.”</p><p>Nodding, Jack steps in. “Good to see you too, Boze. Where is he?”</p><p>“His room, Riley’s with him now.”</p><p>There is a mess of furniture in the living room, and Jack has to jump over a small table to get to the corridor that leads to Mac’s room — where the table used to be, if he recalls it correctly.</p><p>Mac’s room is almost empty, save for his bed. He is lying on the bare mattress, facing the wall, and Riley is sitting on a chair beside, holding a mug of what Jack guesses is coffee. She looks when Jack makes a noise, entering the room.</p><p>“Jack,” she mouths and stands up. “I think he finally slept,” Riley whispers.</p><p>But her words are contradicted when Mac turns around, lying on his back. He freezes, looking at Jack, eyes widened like he can’t believe in what he’s seeing. Then he scrambles to sit, knees pulled against his chest. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants — Jack guesses that Riley and Bozer didn’t trust Mac with a blanket.</p><p>And Jack sees how terrible he looks. The last two days must have been hell on him, but all that damage wasn’t done in such a short time. Mac’s thinner, the clothes look too loose on his frame, his hair is longer, but without a proper cut, and Jack imagines what was happening while he was away. He’s sure that the kid must have been thinking about doing this for a long time, now.</p><p>Jack strides to the bed and sits there. “Hey, hoss,” he says, and Mac continues to look at him with shock and something that might be even wonder.</p><p>“You came,” he says, hands twisting in the fabric covering his knees.</p><p>“I said I would, right?” Jack wants to reach out, to envelop Mac in his arms and never let him go, but he isn’t sure of how Mac is going to react, with all that happened, he doesn’t want to make anything worse.</p><p>Mac gives him a look that Jack prefers to pretend he doesn’t understand, and his hands keep twisting on the fabric. It’s like.</p><p>Oh Mac.</p><p>It’s like he wants to reach out, but is afraid. Mac, who usually is not very touchy, wants that comfort now, and Jack knows that he won’t reach out, allow himself to be held, not if he’s completely in control like he is now.</p><p>So Jack does reach out, pulls Mac’s unresisting body against his and hugs him. For a few seconds Mac just remains there, immobile, until his hands go to Jack’s back, holding him for dear life. Mac’s face is pressed against Jack’s shoulder, and he is shaking, repeating something quietly. Jack feels the warm tears seeping through his shirt.</p><p>“Sorry. I’m so sorry. Sorry.”</p><p>“We’ll talk about that later,” Jack says, letting his own tears run down freely, he can’t let go of Mac to wipe them. “You need to breathe, Mac. We’ll sort this out. For now, I just need you to be here, to stay here, ok?”</p><p>Jack wants to say that he will stay, that he will never leave again, but he refrains from doing that. Not because he doesn’t intend to do that, but because he doesn’t want to remind Mac of when he wasn’t here, not right now.</p><p>He is here now, and Mac is here — still breathing, damaged, but <em> here </em>, they can fix it, will have to fix it.</p><p>“You have to promise me, Mac.”</p><p>Mac nods against his shoulder. “If you ask that, I can do it.”</p><p>And Christ, that isn’t the answer he wants, but he will take that, for now. But they are here, and for this single moment, that is what matters.</p>
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